August 20, 2014

Quiproquo by Grès is one of the sharpest, greenest floral chypres I've ever had the pleasure of smelling.

It opens like Estee Lauder Aliage (1972), with what smells like a huge dose of galbanum and peach; blooms like Diorella (1971), with fresh florals, aromatic herbs, and a bit of funk; and it dries down a bit like Grès’s Cabochard (1959), with a subtle leather accord that pulls the fragrance together like a tough leather belt around a diaphanous summer dress.

The writer for perfume blog Black Narcissus calls Quiproquo "Cabochard’s little sister," and a Fragrantica commenter agrees, derisively describing Quiquopro as “1/4 Cabochard, 1/4 lemon cologne.” It’s true, lemon slices through Quiproquo like a golden ray of sunshine, but once its puckering intensity dies down, the floralcy and woodys/chypre/leather base take over. Raiders of the Lost Scent blogger Andre says of Quiproquo, "Sweet, gentle, almost ethereal, it seems to ask permission before appearing."

Huff this stuff long enough, and you can sniff out the isobutyl quinoline that made Bandit and Cabochard great, giving Quiproquo a dry mossy leather finish so characteristic of 70s perfumes of either persuasion.

August 12, 2014

Gianni Versace's eponymous first fragrance is a densely-woven animalic floral chypre sweetened with dried fruits, studded with spices, drunk on boozy notes and smoky with resins. On the color wheel, it would be represented by velvety russets, silky saffrons, and inky blacks.

It starts off with an intense, autumnal fruit accord, quickly transitioning to sultry, narcotic flowers. Carnation is prominent, adding a warm, clovey spice that emboldens the patchouli in the base to join its chorus. The base's smoky leather rises like a plume cloud of cigarette smoke, temporarily obscuring the beautiful face of a classic film noir femme fatale.

August 09, 2014

I love the idea of a "cusp." In astrology, this means the date when two signs converge, or when one sign transitions to another, sharing the attributes of both.

Cusps in perfume and Zodiac signs toggle between the signature characteristics of the era/sign they're leaving and the ones they're moving toward. For example, I'm a Leo/Virgo, which means, on the one hand, that I am extroverted, need attention, and have energy to burn; and on the other, that I need time away from the madding crowd, that I don't need others' opinions, and that I occasionally need to tunnel under the bedcovers.

August 04, 2014

I was recently gifted a full, properly stored bottle of Eau Fraiche eau de cologne by Christian Dior, probably from the decade it was created. The box has a textured, black and white rattan weave design, and the bottle sports the signature black bow.

Eau Fraiche, or fresh water, starts with a sparkling, sharp, gleaming citrus accord, heavy on the lemon. This naturalistic citrus is soon surrounded by a hazy cloud of herbs and oakmoss with a subtle powdery drydown. The effect is: nature tamed, or elegance letting her hair down. Eau Fraiche features a kaleidescope of fresh facets, combining the sheerness and intensity of real citrus with the floralcy and drydown of a perfume perfume.

Nature tamed: I once described Jean Naté as smelling like a lemon that's gone to finishing school. Dior's Eau Fraiche is much more polished and complex, but the effect is still the same — a burst of nature reined in, its herbs (basil? rosemary? anise?) joined with oakmoss, patchouli and maybe vetiver arranged into a camera-ready pose.

Elegance letting her hair down: Eau Fraiche makes me think of Grace Kelly at the beach. In her bathing suit, she still managed to look more polished and chic than most women in evening gowns. Eau Fraiche is like that — a scent that was probably meant to be thrown on before heading out the door on a summer day, and splashed on throughout the day for refreshment, but it's still tailored and slightly formal. It still smells "perfumey." It's a perfume that has kicked off its shoes and wiggled its toes in the sand...

August 03, 2014

I was recently invited to Berlin, along with fellow perfume bloggers, to attend a Mercedes-Benz fragrance event connected to Berlin Fashion Week. Being a non-insane person, I said, "Yes" to the invite.

We met Mercedes-Benz big-wigs, including Senior Design Manager of Color and Trim, Martin Bremer; Director of Body Interior, Dr. Stefan Geyer; and Daimler AG "futurologist" Sabine Engelhardt, who created the first "automotive room scent,” the Air Balance, for the Mercedes S-Class car.

The most visible part of the Air Balance scent diffuser, its “flacon,” looks like a jar of very expensive night cream. After you put the fragrance inside, you place the flacon into a device that looks like a high-end, compact espresso machine that resides in the glove compartment. It can be be remotely controlled to dispense your own favorite fragrance or customized fragrances (there were four in all), composed by Symrise perfumer Marc vom Ende exclusively for Mercedes-Benz. Using controls that are on the dashboard, you can decide just how much of the fragrance comes out, on a scale of 1 – 3. The Air Balance also filters and ionizes (purifies) the air in the car.

July 05, 2014

Years ago, there was a magical coffee shop in the Lower Garden District in New Orleans called Borsodi's that was unlike any commercial space I'd ever seen.

Borsodi's was more like a theatre than a coffee shop. There was a stage, for readings and performances. Doves wandered the joint (yes, DOVES), and in different corners of the space, there were tables and chairs with their own little library section. At any given moment, Bob would make coffee while someone read poetry on stage, people seated below them played chess, and someone in a corner "library," which you walked up a small spiral staircase to get to, would read from their chosen book in a corner nook. You know — while doves flew around!

I was an impressionable 18 or 19-something from Fort Worth, Texas, and this place blew my mind. (At that point, I’d traveled abroad and considered myself “well-traveled,” but I had never seen anything like this before.)

Borsodi’s was bohemia — that oft-used but oft-misused term — at its best.

Bob Borsodi, who had been trained in the theatre, owned the place and made the cappuccinos that took could take 30 minutes to make (each!), because he was busy talking to people, futzing around, and just being Bob. I remember thinking, "Doesn't this guy want to make money? How is this a business?"

June 30, 2014

In 2006, before I became a perfumaniac, I actually strolled through department stores, much as I did as a tween, randomly sniffing and spraying perfume, occasionally being moved to buy something.

In some ways, I long for that blissful Eden of perfume ignorance again! Before I read perfume books, perfume blogs; before knew I could get free samples or purchase decants; and before I'd go perfume sniffing with an idea of what I wanted to try (and more importantly, with an arsenal of info on why I should try it), it was just my nose and my limbic system that made decisions.

The ultimate imprimatur? The wallet pulled out for a full-bottle purchase. ("Wait, really?" the contemporary perfumista asks. "Without first swapping with someone on Facebook or MakeupAlley? Or buying a decant on SurrenderToChance? Or checking to see if it was deep-discounted on eBay, Fragrance.net or Amazon?") Yes, dear reader, really. Kind of like how in the olden days, people just sniffed around each other at dances and mixers, deciding someone was The One from their sweat or the way they stood or cocked their head or smiled, instead of choosing people by looking at a static picture of them on OK Cupid or Tinder.

But I digress.

I was recently organizing my perfume (i.e., cramming things into various plastic boxes), when I came across a small bottle I've kept with me through various moves across the country. Over the years I'd sniff this curious little gold-capped thing, feel comforted by it and besotted with it, then confused about whether or not I "should" like it, become overwhelmed by too many conflicting feelings, and move on. Back to the plastic box for you, MV2.

But for some reason, I decided recently to pull it out and spray it on. Umm… wow. It is ridiculously sexy. Spicy. Dirty. Wrong. I realize now that although I'd say to myself, "mother's milk," every time I sprayed it, what kept me from fully embracing it back in the day it was all the confusing dirty elements: Its muskiness, booziness, how amplified the vanilla and piquant notes were. MV2 is almost oppressive.

What's been the same over the years is what overwhelmingly pulls me in every time: MAC Creations' MV2's milky quality.

June 16, 2014

I'm raising money on the crowdfunding site Indiegogo to create a new perfume with world-renowned perfumer Antoine Lie.

Ever since I began to collect and write about vintage perfume, I’ve dreamed of creating modern equivalents of some of the beautiful fragrances of the past. Antoine Lie's beautiful and erotic perfumes really speak to me, and after I interviewed him for my book, I approached him with the idea to create a floral animalic inspired by vintage perfume but updated for modern consumers. He was eager to be on board, and I couldn't be more thrilled.

ABOUT ANTOINE LIE

Antoine is a world-renowned perfume who is privileged because he has both the opportunity (thanks to Paris-based perfume house Takasago) and the desire, to work in both the mainstream and niche worlds of perfume. I’m so grateful a perfumer of this caliber is interested in this project.

Here's what one writer had to say about Antoine: “There are few creators who can balance between the needs of the perfume industry and the genius of an independent work of art. Subversive perfumer Antoine Lie is surely one of them. This man is very well known for stepping in two apparently opposite worlds—the mainstream giant brands and the most obscure niche ones.” — Miguel Matos, Fragrantica.com

HOW THE FUNDS WILL HELP GET THIS PERFUME OFF THE GROUND

My goal is to raise $6,000 by July 13th. I’ll use the funds to register the perfume trademark (around $300); to pay perfumer Antoine Lie for both his time and for the high-quality perfume oils that will go into making this fragrance; and to purchase sample vials, bottles, and prototype packaging: about $5,700.

HOW YOU CAN HELP

If you've been a long-time reader of this site and would like to support the creation of a modern perfume as daring, deep, and aesthetics-driven as the perfumes of the past that you love — you can contribute anywhere from $15, $25, $50, $100, $250, $500, or $1,000 — with some great perks attached. After the fragrance is created, I will begin looking for investors and ways of bringing this perfume — and possibly others later — into the world.

To find out more about this campaign, please go to Perfume X: A Modern Vintage Perfume on Indiegogo. There, you can find out what perks you'll get for which contribution levels, and non-monetary ways you can support this campaign, for example, by spreading the news on Twitter, Facebook, and among friends and perfume lovers.